


Depraved

by Bloody_Destination



Series: Depraved [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, But he's kind of a pervert in this, Depression, Hurt No Comfort, I'm sorry I had to Hurt Tobi, Incest, M/M, Madara being an Asshole, Pining, Rape/Non-con Elements, Senjucest, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 04:44:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16278068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloody_Destination/pseuds/Bloody_Destination
Summary: Tobirama feels deeply for his brother and the distance between himself and his Anija has pushed the younger past sanity till all he wants is his brother in his arms and a love he can never have.





	Depraved

**Author's Note:**

> I actually hadn't meant this as a HashiTobi fic but it just kind of happened.

Tobirama isn’t sure when the distance grew so great between himself and his brother. He isn’t sure when enemy became closer than a brother and a brother became less than an enemy. There is no definite point in Tobirama’s meticulous memory for when Hashirama began to push him away. It was just a sudden realization where once, Hashirama would drag his little brother all across the fledgling village, wanting Tobirama’s input on where the market should be build, what kind of housing would be best, how to best implement sewage with such winding streets, build into the form of a large seal to better protect the village.

Now, he would be lucky to see his brother within the building they both worked in. He doesn’t even remember when he had moved from his brother’s office to his own. He knows for a fact, that even when Madara has his own office, he still has a desk in the Hokage’s own. The very same one that used to be Tobirama’s.

The two brothers once ate together every night, Hashirama insisting that the two live together. And they did, until Madara would be at the house more than not and nightly dinners became ‘maybe another night, Tobi! Madara hasn’t been to the new roman stand!’ and eating alone became the norm. His brother moves out soon after, insisting on being more centralized, rather than on the edge of the village, condemned to the icy cramped atmosphere of the Senju clan compound.

Tobirama remembers waiting for hours on end, some days, when he and his brother were scheduled to spar. It had started as testing the training grounds and grew to the brothers’ weekly training with each other. The two had so very little in common once they had grown older, but training had always been a joy between the two growing up with each other. There were no others able to match the two in the clan and it was only during battle that Hashirama was able to fight with Madara.

But with the village growing and expanding at exponential rates, Hashirama had only so little free time and what little he did have, was spent with Madara. So, after so many days of sitting alone, in an empty training ground reserved for the two of them on this day, at this time every week, Tobirama stopped showing as well.

Tobirama is always on constant vigilance, as the strongest sensor to be born of his, or most likely any, generation, it took barely any chakra so see the entirety of Fire Country. But it always took so much more chakra to hide his senses from the _hurricane_ that was his brother’s chakra and the _raging forest fire_ of Madara’s own that threatened to engulf him every time he wasn’t careful enough to dull his senses.

It was constant pain to even be near the both of them together, but it was the only time that Tobirama was even able to see Hashirama, was when he was with the Uchiha clan head. And the two were always together. A constant, searing pain, that never stopped, a daily reminder that his brother chose a former enemy, over the brother that would give the world to him.

By the time Konohagakure has reached its third year and the village has welcomed in dozens of clans, is when Tobirama is seen as nothing more than a passing glance. He locks himself within his office to complete his paperwork for the day and when he returns to his home, locks himself within his lab. He remembers when he enjoyed coming into the Hokage tower, to work along side his brother, and even Madara. He can’t remember a time now, when a new creation in his lab brought more than dull satisfaction, instead of the triumphant glee at a new, successful experiment that he used to feel.

He remembers all of the little things that Hashirama used to do, that Tobirama had taken for granted. When Tobirama had first moved into his new office, Hashirama would bring him lunch, knowing the younger would forget. When they still lived together, the meals Hashirama would make, or when the elder would carry Tobirama back home after falling asleep at his desk after overworking day after day. Or when Hashirama would barge into his lab and force him to rest in his own bed.

Now, Tobirama eats little more than a few bits of whatever he has stocked in his fridge or cupboard, though usually empty, or something stale. He’s too tired to cook for himself, barely getting any more than an hour or two of sleep, if he’s lucky, a night. He will wake up, having fallen asleep at his desk at odd hours of the night or day, both in the Hokage Tower and his own lab.

Hashirama used to drag the three of them to the park to do paperwork outside, though they barely got anything done when the children would inevitably demand the three to play with them. Tobirama has always been weak in the face of children and Hashirama would do anything to get out of paperwork and Madara would be exasperated at the both of them, too busy trying not to yell at the both of them while children were around to get his own work done.

Tobirama can’t remember the last time he was outside for more than a few moments, walking to and from his home and back from the Hokage Tower. He used to dream of being a Sensei to the students. He doesn’t anymore, because he knows he’s poison. He hurts without meaning to and even his own brother is wary.

He can see it in the way that the villagers will cross the street if they see him coming, or even flat out turn around in order to not cross his path. He is seen as a monster still, with his pale white skin, gaunt features, white hair and blood red eyes, deeper then the Sharingan.

His brother us to protect him from such words if ever he heard them. Use to stop in the middle of the street and give such heated lectures in his brother’s defense. He remembers the first time his brother did not. Hashirama and Madara had been planning to go out to dinner together and Tobirama had finished his paperwork for the day early so they had been heading out at the same time. Madara had looked him up and down and then promptly invited Tobirama to join, saying how skinny he had gotten and needed an actual meal for once.

Hashirama readily agrees to anything Madara wants, gushing over how his baby brother and best friend were finally getting along. He wouldn’t stop talking about how mature they both had become, when a group of youthful, probably teenager, civilians had passed by their own group of three.

_“...red eyed monster of Konoha.”_

_“I heard he was evil.”_

_“…could place a curse…”_

_“…stay away from him. Maybe we should cross the street?”_

They weren’t quiet in their words and even Madara had picked up on the conversation as his head turned with the teens crossing the street just a few feet ahead of them. But Hashirama had been distracted, animatedly gushing over the day’s earlier events when Madara had brought in his injured falcon so it wouldn’t feel lonely. It was more of the same as the civilians shied away from the three. How the waitress refused to look at Tobirama directly, how the family just a few seats down whispered about the red eyed demon.

Tobirama had excused himself then, because, despite how used to the comments, despite how frequently he heard those words spoken about him, either behind his back or directly to his face. Not once had his brother failed to come to his defense when the elder was present. Not that today. It was the final straw that broke their already tenuous relationship.

It was childish of him, and not at all Hashirama’s fault. Tobirama was to blame as well, as it was himself that pulled back, unable to reciprocate his brother’s open displays of love. Dear Sage, he wished that he could. It had started as a child under their father’s harsh parenting. Tobirama had to be what his brother couldn’t, because his brother was so hopeful and innocent, and his smile was the world to Tobirama and he couldn’t afford to never see that smile again.

So, he became what his brother couldn’t. He was meticulous and calculated, a killer born and bred for a war his brother was too decent, too righteous to be a part of. He tore out his heart so his brother could keep his own, embracing hate so that his brother could preserve his love. As he grew, he became the red eyed monster, feared by his own clan, more so than the enemy. His brother was the savior and when he called for peace, he was listened to.

Through all of that, Hashirama had not once left his little brother’s side. It was the one thing that had kept Tobirama sane. His brother’s love was endless, and it drowned any and all of his inadequacies, his fears, and his self-hatred. It was like the sea, engulfing him until he felt nothing else but the roaring ocean of his brother’s love.

With it suddenly so distant, it felt like the desert, burning and brittle and ready to break. Alone in an endless void, needing the water he was so desperate to drown in.

 _Already broken_ , he thinks bitterly.

He wants his brother back, wants to feel his arms around him again. His brother has always been so strong, the strongest man to ever live and he can’t help but thinking that his brother truly was a god. The way he had the power to both break and nurture. The way enemies would shake his hand after he had the power to kill them in an instead and yet chose peace.

Tobirama would blame it on his tired mind, on one of his jutsu backfiring, but when, late under the cover of night, he would let himself into his brother’s home. His brother, so trusting, to leave his own door unlocked, home only marginally warded where Tobirama had no trouble letting himself in. Where he was open the plane wooden door, leading to his brother’s room, so spacious, covered in knickknacks and pictures and trinkets that children and adults both dotted the older man with.

When those soft, brown eyes opened, bleary from sleep, yet sensing the white haired man, he smiled as his half closed eyes landed on Tobirama. They closed almost the instant he knew he was safe and went back to sleep and it hurt Tobirama, knowing what he was doing was wrong, with the way that his brother still held such trust.

He didn’t stop though, even as he kneeled down, next to his brother’s mat and his hand unable to stop as it moved to thread through soft brown locks and heated skin of his brother’s face, down his cheek, neck, color bone. The skin prickled against the cool contact of his hand. The older man groaned and reached out his own hand and Tobirama caught it. Hashirama’s flesh was so heated, flushed and soft to the touch. He wondered what the elder tasted of. Perhaps like the berries he grew for himself, or the honeysuckle that overgrew the yard, or perhaps like the very sun that he was to Tobirama.

He brought himself to meet the wrist trapped in his grip, lips ghosting over skin, feather light. Tobirama had to resist a groan. His tongue darted out, tasting a fine trail up past the wrist, meeting sweat slicked palm and soft fingers until he reached the tip of the thumb and then trailed his lips, breath heavy back down to his brother’s palm. He tasted of honey and jasmine.

His brother was only ever a heavy sleeper when he felt safe and the fact that he was not waking now meant he likely wouldn’t should Tobirama continue. He should stop, he knew, to molest his brother was an act so unlike himself, so degrading and invasive, and had he been clear of mind, he likely would not have. But the way his brother’s breath stuttered when he reached a particularly sensitive piece of flesh on the side of his hand, it was practically an invitation to his addled, exhausted mind.

He pressed the wrist gently into the futon as he climbed over his brother’s unconscious form, straddling broad hips. He cursed his brother for his near bare form in the heat of summer, going without a blanket and only clothed in a loose robe that was nearly falling off of the man in his sleep. The thick muscles of his chest were bare where the robe hung from his shoulder, sweat glistening on golden skin and chest heavy but slow that could only come from sleep.

His legs were parted slightly and Tobirama put a knee between them causing his legs to open further and the rob slip more until his brother lay completely exposed below him. He was a sight in broad daylight, but in the shadow of night, where the only light comes from the open window and the waning moon casting palely against sun kissed flesh, he was the picture of a god that the world described him as. The full of his flesh exposed, sweaty and relaxed took Tobirama’s breath away as his free hand, the one not desperately clinging to his brother’s hand, shook as he rested it upon a soft pectoral.

Tobirama had to bite his lip not to groan as his hand moved down his brother’s chest, brushing against a nipple, causing a small keen from the man below him. His hand touched everywhere, eliciting more noises that Tobirama was slowly becoming addicted to. He couldn’t help but watch as the small touches he littered his brother with affect the body in a way that no brother’s touch should elicit.

His own erection grew heavy and tight in his pants, his cock leaking at the sight of his brother flushed. Hashirama was Beautiful as his unconscious body desperately arching where his hand trailed lower. His brother was thick in his arousal and long and Tobirama wished desperately to taste that part of him. But he did not, instead, he wrapped as shaking hand around the other and Hashirama let out a gasp, eyes fluttering and Tobirama froze, neither releasing nor moving away, but waiting.

It was only a second until Hashirama’s eyes fluttered closed once more and Tobirama breathed a sigh of relief. Tobirama moved slowly from there, the hand not holding onto his brother’s leaking erection, trailed down his arm, moving until he cupped his brother’s face and Tobirama bent low as he began to move his hand along his brother’s cock.

The way his brother made those little moans and soft keens sent a thrill down his own body and he was achingly hard. His breath mingled closely with Hashirama’s as they were mere inches apart. He pressed himself as close as possible as he brought his brother closer to his climax. His lips trailed his brother’s jaw, kissing feather light and licking at lips that gasp open as his hand tightens marginally.

He kisses his brother lightly, chaste at first, working the mouth under his until the other begins to breath from his nose and then he goes deeper. Forcefully parting lips, his tongue exploring and licking playing as delicately as possible. He never takes his eyes off the pinched visage of his brother, of his aroused blush and clenched eyes, still so deep in sleep.

Tobirama forgets to breath and he has to pull away or risk sputtering and waking his brother. He only pulls so far as to still breath in the same air as his brother as he works to calm himself. He nearly collapses onto his brother when a particularly vicious tug has Hashirama arching into Tobirama’s body, brushing against his own clothes erection.

Tobirama can’t help himself then but to reach into his own pants, taking in hand his heated flesh and working himself at a much faster pace than the slow, delicate movement of his hand on his brother. He uses his own precum to trail past his erection when even that does not satisfy him. He traces his entrance watching his brother closely until he gasps softly, then pushes his fingers into himself.

He bites his lip to stop himself from making unwanted noise. He doesn’t want to cum yet, even as he works himself open, feels his own prostate responding as he rubs viciously to the site of his molested, sleeping brother.

This is rape, he knows, and yet he can’t stop, not at the way drool slips past his brother’s lips, both his own and Tobirama’s. Not when his brother is arching and twitching and gasping and it is all Tobirama’s doing. He can tell by the way his breath hitches, that Hashirama is close as well as himself. He leans down again, connecting their mouths once more, drawing deep into himself as he assaults his self-abused hole and tightens his grip as he moves faster, to bring his brother over the edge.

He pulls his mouth back at the last moment, intent on watching his brother’s face as he comes. His mouth opens wide in a gasp and a small whine, his body moving in tandem with Tobirama’s hand as cum covers both their bodies. The sight brings Tobirama to his climax with him and a small gasp escapes his throat, try as he might to silence himself.

Tobirama pulls back almost instantly as his brother begins to blink awake as the pleasure brings him from his sleep. He waits only a moment to watch those eyes, half sleepy, half in the haze of pleasure, before he is out of the house in the next moment, across the street and shaking despite the heat of the mid-summer night.

The light of his brother’s room turns on in the next second as he can feel his brother, lazily moving about the room, to clean himself off from what he probably only suspects to be a pleasurable dream.

Tobirama pushes away the feeling of wanting to be in there with him, to lick off every last drop of cum on his brother’s toned chest. He’s filthy and dirty and depraved and all he wants is his brother and yet knows he doesn’t deserve any of his love.

In the next second, he feels a presence that had been previously hidden from him until now. So close and blindingly bright and he wonders how he could have missed it to begin with. He blames it on the exhaustion once more, on his turbulent thoughts and the fact that he goes to great lengths to tune out the other’s presence at the very fact that it hurts to feel constantly.

“What a beautiful sight he makes when he cums, doesn’t he?”

He does not jump, but it is a near thing as a hand grabs his own from behind. Tobirama attempts to step away, but the grip is strong and the other comes to wrap around his waist. The hand brings his own up to eye level and he sees the white, thick fluid on his hand. It isn’t much, but it is enough to realize what it is at first glance.

“My! What a wicked little brother you are!”

The dark rumble of laughter has him swallowing because this is his brother’s best friend, and Tobirama knows this man and his brother have shared a bed before. He knows because he is the greatest sensor to ever walk the Elemental Countries and he knows when two chakra mix in such a way that indicate sex, that indicate when one climaxes and the please it brings their chakra, so full of emotion and pleasure. He knows because he’s masturbated to such instances before.

A chin rests on his shoulder as the other brings his hand closer and licks at the fluid on his fingers, “Tastes good, doesn’t he?”

Tobirama groans out of fear and a burning embarrassed pleasure he feels at remembering how his brother tastes and he almost wants to pull his hand away and taste his brother’s cum for himself.

“What would he say, Tobirama, if he knew his brother has so thoroughly ravished him in his sleep?” Tobirama shivers in fear and a rumble laughter is felt, more than heard, “I rather enjoyed the show, of course. Poor Tobi! So lonely without his brother. So depraved!”

Suddenly the hands are gone, and he feels so cold, shaking as Madara moves away from him. He doesn’t even spare him a glance as he walks so casually to the door, opening it without even knocking and when the two chakra meet only a minute later, it is with passion and heat and blinding and Tobirama feels sick to his stomach, even as pleasure courses through his body as Hashirama’s own.

Even as he retreats to the sanctuary of his own home, he cannot help but keep his senses open to the almost painful coupling of his brother an Madara, those words, spoken by the elder, dark haired man still ringing in his ears and yet none less true.

 


End file.
